The Toymaker rubbed his hands together with a certain satisfaction. He'd made it easy for the Doctor to find this girl, let that ridiculous blue box through without any trouble. He rather hoped the girl would kill the Doctor (again?) but so far she showed no sign of such an intention. Instead, she stood quivering against the wall, just this side of panic, staring at the Time Lord leaning casually against the other wall; she was poised to act - whether to fight or flee was unclear from her stance.

And the Doctor - well, this particular incarnation of the Time Lord known as the Doctor - looked barely old enough to pilot a TARDIS, let alone be up to playing one of the Toymakers games. He hoped their interaction would be interesting. So far, it had been rather dull.

/

River stared at him. He looked like her Doctor, but with all that had happened here over the last several hours, she couldn't be sure.

More very not good, thought the Doctor. He'd seen River angry many times. He'd seen her in bad situations before - more bad situations than good, actually - and he'd even seen her frightened, which she didn't show to just anyone. But frantic hysteria was not River Song's style. This would require care. He spread his hands, trying to look as harmless as possible. "River? It's me. The Doctor - your Doctor. Are you all right?"

"But how can I be sure it's really you?" There were tears in her voice as she stood opposite him, as far away as she could get and still be in the corridor, so tense he could see the muscles quiver under her skin.

He waved his arms helplessly, searching for the words, the words that would wake his River out of the terrified woman in front of him. "Er... 'fish fingers and custard'? No, that's Amy's... hmm... What about 'always and completely'?" River stood frozen there for an endless moment, staring at him with tears in her eyes, and then she leapt at him and flung her arms around his neck, kissing him fiercely on the lips.

He felt the curve of that sexy little smile against his skin as she murmured, "Hello, Sweetie," into his mouth, and he knew then that she would be all right.

He rested his forehead lightly on hers. "Did he - the Toymaker - did he hurt you?" His voice was quiet and hard, but River knew that the deadly anger barely contained in it was not directed at her.

She shook her head. "No. He only frightened me." She felt his jaw muscles tense at the sound of the almost imperceptible catch still in her voice. "Truly, my love, I'm not hurt." He pulled away, looking searchingly into her face, his hands resting gently on her shoulders, his face still tight with anger.

"Then we've got a playroom to tidy."

/

The Toymaker was perplexed. As he understood it, this River Song had killed the Doctor, but they appeared to be on intimate terms. Very odd behaviour really. He was sure his research on her had been correct, so the data itself must be at fault. He decided he'd require them to run the gamut of the alien creatures of which she'd showed such fear while he thought this problem through.

He ticked tasks off on his fingers to make sure he hadn't missed anything... make the girl react, right; send messages to the Doctor using that ludicrous blue box he called a TARDIS, yes; let the TARDIS through to drop the Doctor off and then get the machine out of his space, yes. He'd done all that but he couldn't help but feel he had forgotten something.

/

"My love, is that a sonic screwdriver in your pocket?" River inquired archly, "Or are you just happy to see me?" He felt that smile against his mouth again and realized to his relief that she was quickly recovering her scattered wits.

"Er... " he said, shifting uncomfortably, "I keep the sonic in my breast pocket up here and... oh... right, yes. I've been meaning to tell you about that." He took a step back and gingerly removed a pistol from his trouser pocket, holding it by the grip between thumb and forefinger and regarding it with distaste. "Amy insisted I bring this along. I told her I had my screwdriver but she muttered something about cabinets and shoved this into my hand."

She snatched it from him, rubbing the barrel affectionately with one thumb. "Amy knows I feel naked without a nice solid disintegrator pistol," she agreed, approvingly, "What a lovely thing for her to do! Now then, shall we go use it on this Toymaker of yours?" She grinned that slightly bloodthirsty grin - the one he shouldn't like but kind of did - at him, and took his hand in her free one, heading back down the corridor.

/

The Toymaker frowned. Something was wrong; this was not going the way it should. The girl should not have recovered so quickly, the Doctor should not be so easy around her given that she'd killed him, and there was something pinging on the edges of his consciousness, trying to get his attention, but he couldn't catch it. He threw a wall up to slow his toys as they made their way toward him; he needed time to think. Why wouldn't they give him time to think?

/

River and the Doctor came to an abrupt halt as the wall appeared in front of them. They read the message on the wall, looked bemusedly at each other, and turned to read it again.

Tick tock goes the clock,

And all the years they fly.

Ticktock goes the clock,

'Til you and he must die.

River shrugged, trying to look as though the words didn't bother her. "He wants some action, does he? I think I can manage that." She shot at the wall, dissolving it, and revealing the crowded but now silent ballroom behind it. She felt the Doctor start and smiled at him, only a little shakily this time. "You can see why I was... not myself." He nodded once and grabbed her free hand, leading her into the throng of aliens and humanoids in formal wear. She kept her gun at the ready, but she didn't shoot. Not yet. Nobody was threatening her or the Doctor - at least not outwardly - although the scene was incredibly eerie. All those people, alien and humanoid, all just standing there like statues looking at them. At least that damned song had stopped; she wasn't sure she could've borne it if the song was still playing, even - maybe especially, given the other lyrics, the ones not written on the wall - with the Doctor's comforting presence at her side. They wove their way through the crowd to the doorway opposite the one through which they had entered.

And then they were once again in a dimly-lit corridor. As they headed down it, the Doctor whispered in River's ear. "What, no dancing? Ah well, I suppose we're not dressed for it, really." He nodded at his own tweed jacket and the loose trousers and t-shirt she had been wearing for sleeping when the Toymaker had taken her from her cell, bed and all. She flashed him a quick grin, but it faded as soon as they turned the corner. Because the Toymaker was there, standing at a desk, peering into what might have been a computer screen and muttering to himself. He did not seem to be aware of their presence. And then the Doctor spoke in that deceptively calm voice that meant he was very very angry... the one that meant that if you knew what was good for you, now was the time to run away, faster and further than you'd ever run in your life... while you still could.

"Hello, Toymaker. We've come to give your playroom a good cleaning."